Knowledge
by Tiffany Adams
Summary: Susan DuWitt is not as dumb as she looks.


Title: Knowledge  
Author: Tiffany Adams  
Summary: Willy, from his mother's POV  
Rating: PG  
Pairings: None  
Spoilers: None  
Disclaimer: The characters of Willy, David, and Susan DuWitt belong to  
Neal Adams and co. Just try to sue me. I have no $$. The lawyer fee  
will be more than the settlement.  
  
  
"And in other news, researchers say the unusually high pollen  
count could be contributing to - "  
  
I like to have the news on. I'm usually not watching; David says  
there's no reason to listen to a media source controlled by Washington  
polluters and fat cats, and I mainly agree. But the house is too quiet  
sometimes, especially on Tuesday, when my husband has meditation  
classes after work and I allow Willy to forgo the usual family meal  
and stay at work right through the evening. He's usually too busy to  
talk during the meals anyway, shoveling his food so he can get back to  
his job.   
  
There's a noise downstairs; the microwave pings. Willy must be  
back. It's late and I didn't hear him come in, as usual. I shut off  
the TV and head downstairs.  
  
In the kitchen, Willy is shoving leftover tofu burgers onto a  
plate, holding the bun in his mouth. As I come in, he says, "Hi mom"  
but it's more like "hee mmmmummth" as he shuts the microwave door. I  
never wanted to buy that thing, what with the radiation and all, but  
he nagged us for years and we broke down.   
  
"You can sit down, honey," I point out, and he practically drops  
the plate on the table, unloading the other snacks and beverages he  
had in his arms.   
  
My little boy - well, he's not so little anymore. Over the last  
two summers, he's just shot up and he's taller than me now. As usual,  
his shirt is torn and disheveled, and he's working his work jeans,  
which are covered in grease stains. His T-shirt has some kind of logo  
on it, with writing I've never seen around the emblem. It must be  
Asian characters or something; he says he got it at work.   
  
"So, how was work today?" I ask, sitting down across from him at  
our round kitchen table.  
  
He smiles and says between mouthfuls, "Good. I'm installing the  
mark-5 in the Righteous. I almost got it working, too." As he reaches  
for the all-natural pear juice, he flinches, and for the first time I  
notice a bandage around his left hand. He glances at, noticing  
something ominously red seeping through the padding. "Darnit."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Nothing," he says, quickly. He always plays down his many  
injuries, which only makes me more suspicious. As he touches it, "Ow!  
Jesus. I think the painkiller's wearing off."  
  
"Painkiller? What did you do -- "  
  
"Mom, it's nothing, *really* -- "  
  
I frown at him and take his hand, suddenly realizing how huge it  
is in comparison to my own slim fingers. Unwinding the bandage, I gasp  
at the angry diagonal cut grazing his palm. "Where did you *get*  
this?"  
  
"I was clumsy. You know how it is. Open wiring and stuff. I was  
just gonna get a band aid - "  
  
I give him one of my looks, and he backs down and follows me as I  
lead him to his bedroom, careful not to get any blood on the carpet.  
"Just lie down and let me get you some herbs."  
  
He lies down reluctantly on his star wars-themed bed dressings as  
I fetch some of the new herbs I got from the health food store and  
some ready-made tea. When I return, he's already soaked through the  
rag I gave him to press down on.  
  
I sit down on the bed next to him and start rubbing a potion on  
his palm. He flinches involuntarily. "Now, honey, I just picked this  
up at that new 'Circle of Light' store, and the lady behind the  
counter said it's very good for draining bad energy."  
  
"Mom, you're not going to capitalist, yuppie hell if you say  
'prevents infection,'" Willy mumbles, and I detect a growing tiredness  
in his voice. He always comes home from work so exhausted. "Why can't  
you just buy antiseptic like *normal* people?"  
  
I grin and finish cleaning the wound, "Drink your tea. It'll help  
you relax."  
  
"Mo-oooom!" he says tiredly, but manages to gulp down the tea, and  
lays back against the pillow. "You don't have to act like this. I'm  
not a baby."  
  
"You'll always be my baby, honey." I take another careful look at  
the wound, ignoring the grimace on his face. "I don't think you need  
stitches. Did you let your captain see this?"  
  
"He was kinda busy."  
  
"You want to tell me what happened?" I've already started  
re-bandaging the hand, not expecting an answer.   
  
"Told you. Careless," he yawns, his eyelids dropping. "That and  
this storm toad - charged at me. I should've remembered the panel was  
lyin' open so I didn't jump back into it. But what was I supposed to  
do, man? He had a blaster."  
  
"Of course, honey. And where was Captain O'Hare in all of his?"  
  
"I thin' he was takin' care of the toads in piloting. How they got  
on'na ship, I dunno, but - man, wha' a mess ..."  
  
The medical aspect done, I release his hand as he rolls on his  
side, burrowing into the pillow. He's already half asleep as I pull  
the blanket over him.  
  
"You won' tell anyone 'bout my space job, right?" he mumbles into  
the pillow. "'cause if my parents found out, they'd, like, freak..."  
  
"Of course not." What does he think we are, idiots? I kiss him on  
the forehead, knocking stray hair out of his face. "Get some sleep.  
You have school tomorrow."  
  
But he's already asleep. As I turn out the lights and shut the  
door, I can see the moonlight seeping in on my baby's sleeping form,  
and I make a silent promise to give that green hare a piece of my mind  
whenever I finally meet him.  
  
The End 


End file.
